


Tease

by LadyKnightSkye



Series: Like a Bull Wyvern [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant to Chapter 12, Claude gets a little rough, Cultural Shenanigans, F/M, Female Friendship, Friendship, Not Canon Compliant After, Party, Plotting, Reunions, Seduction, Strong Language, Unresolved Sexual Tension, world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 20:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20180410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKnightSkye/pseuds/LadyKnightSkye
Summary: Hilda launches a plot that would make Claude proud, if it weren't aimed at him.





	Tease

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to _Schemers_ and I suggest making sure you've read that one first.
> 
> This is also based on my personal run-through of the Golden Deer route, and the decisions I made for each character.

The next few days were spent hiring people to help clean the monastery. The Golden Deer focused on cleaning the student’s barracks first. By consensus, the outer bailey would be left for last. In the aftermath of the battle, very little of the rubble had been taken care of, and there were still human remains out there. The villagers were all too happy for some extra income, but work went slowly. Beds were aired out, floors and walls scrubbed clean of dirt and dust, and a small kitchen was set up in one of the lower rooms whose door wasn’t completely destroyed.

  
Byleth and Claude more or less treated each other with almost formal curtesy. The others gave each other the side eye a lot, wondering what had happened. Lorenz and Hilda may have been gossiping fiends, but they had too much respect for both their Duke and their Professor to air the pair’s dirty laundry to all. However, it came to a head three days after the reunion.

  
Byleth was stoic but it wasn’t hard for Marianne, Leonie, Lysithea, and Hilda to realize that something was eating at her. Ironically enough, she had the tendency to get _more_ stoic when she was bothered by something. “Yo, Professor,” Leonie finally asked as they started mucking out the kitchens in the dining hall, “What’s bothering you?”

  
The woman kept sweeping, but a small sigh shook her shoulders. “I’m . . .” She stopped and looked up at them. “Do any of you have a man?”

  
For the three women who had no idea what this was all about, that question was completely out of left field. For Hilda, it was just what she was waiting for. “What? No!” Leonie answered.

  
“No,” Marianne said, “Though Margrave Edmund has tried.”

  
“No,” Lysithea answered.

  
“Yes,” Hilda answered, surprising them all.

  
“I have not heard of you getting married!” Lysithea cried.

  
Hilda shrugged. “I didn’t say anything about getting married, just that I have a man. Discreetly.”

  
Byleth was looking at her like she was the savior of all her dreams. “How . . . why . . . ugh.”

“Is this about Claude?” Hilda asked.

  
“Claude?!” Leonie echoed.

  
Lysithea’s face lit up. “You and Claude, Professor?”

  
But Marianne was not so jovial. “Oh, Professor.”

  
Byleth clenched her jaw. “How do you handle rejection?”

  
“Rejection?” Hilda asked, her voice a sing-song. “I don’t think he was truly rejecting you.”

  
Sharp, teal green eyes narrowed on her. “And how would you know?”

  
Faced with Byleth’s trademark “teacher voice,” Hilda wisely answered with the truth. “Lorenz and I were outside your door. We saw Claude enter your room. We were curious as to what was going on. We saw him come out. Like I said, I don’t think he was truly rejecting you. Why was he in your room?”

  
Byleth’s face did not move. All four of her former students waited, waited for her to either trust them enough to answer or to return to her task. They didn’t have to wait long. She put down the broom carefully, and sat down at one of the tables. The other women quickly joined her, sliding onto the old bench just like they had during their school days. Marianne fetched the tea that had been brewing at the hearth, and poured everyone a cup. Wrapping her hands around her rough hewn mug, Byleth shared her thoughts. “I had a moment that night. I . . . mourned.”

  
Marianne nodded. “We have had time to accept our new lives, mourn our lost ones. You went from one world to another without any time to process what had happened.”

  
Leonie looked uncomfortable. “I . . . I never thought about it like that, but yeah. For us . . . Garreg Mach was five years ago. For you . . .”

  
“It was last week,” Lysithea finished.

  
“Claude helped me,” Byleth continued with a nod. “He . . .” She ducked her head and blushed.

  
Hilda grinned like the cat that ate the canary, while the other three shared looks. “Claude did what?” Lysithea prodded.

  
“Details, Professor! Details!” Hilda pressed.

  
“He . . . it’s hard to explain . . . he, uh, gave me a massage.”

  
The ladies gasped. “Naked?” Marianne asked.

  
Byleth’s blush became fiery. “No!”

  
“Sorry, Professor,” Hilda said around a sip of tea. “In some parts of the Alliance, ‘massage’ is a euphemism for sex.”

  
“Claude did not have sex with me,” their teacher replied primly. She took a sip of tea. “Not that . . . Not that I didn’t want him to.”

  
The ladies squealed in shocking unison. Byleth, who had never had close female friends before, jumped and cringed. “Claude is very handsome isn’t he?” Lysithea whispered.

  
“Have you seen him draw a bow? Ugh.” Leonie whispered back.

  
“He is very sweet.” Marianne also whispered.

  
Hilda gestured to them with a flourish of her hand. “Why are you whispering?”

  
The other three shrugged.

  
“But he said no,” she continued, “He said . . . he said he wouldn’t have sex with me if he was just a convenient cock to help me forget.”

  
“That unmitigated asshole,” Hilda growled. “I mean, it was a good thing that he didn’t want to take advantage of you in a vulnerable state, but for a diplomat his words were very, very undiplomatic.”

  
“Well, do you still want him?” Leonie asked.

  
All eyes went to Byleth. She bit her lips, and nodded. “It’s more than sex.”

  
“As it should be,” Hilda replied gently. “But right now . . . I have a tea service riding on you getting in bed with Claude by Saturday.”

  
“Hilda!” the other women gasped.

  
Byleth, however, smiled, and then began to cackle. The other ladies began to join her. “So, my dearest ladies,” she said, “Are you ready to help me in this plot?”

  
“What plot?”

  
All five heads whipped around to see the object of their conversation standing in the doorway. Ignatz and Raphael were with him, holding boxes of food. The women looked back at each other, and burst into gales of laughter.

  
“What are they laughing at?” Raphael asked.

  
Ignatz shrugged. Claude didn’t answer either, too busy staring at Byleth. The ladies had devolved into decidedly unladylike snorting, and Leonie was beating the table with her hand. Watching them, he found his own lips perking up. He wasn’t letting the mention of a plot go - he would find out what they were planning - but he decided not to press it now. He was content just to watch her. She was beautiful, even with tears of laughter streaming down her face. His heart swelled, the urge to go over and hold her strong.

  
“Would you like some tea?” Marianne finally asked, delicately wiping her eyes.

  
“Of course,” Ignatz said, glancing over at Claude. “We brought supplies.”

  
“They can go over there,” Leonie said, pointing to a place just inside the kitchens. “We still haven’t cleaned the cold cellar yet, but that’s on the list.”

  
Raphael and Ignatz picked up the boxes of dry goods and put it away as Claude approached the table. Hilda had been sitting next Byleth, but she shot up as he approached. “Let me go get some more mugs!”

  
Claude narrowed his eyes at Hilda, but took her seat. He gave the other ladies a charming smile. Leonie and Lysithea were eyeing him oddly, and Marianne was giving him a soft smile. Byleth was toying with her mug, fingers skimming along the rim. He sat close, and leaned his elbow on the table. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, and he’d left his gloves in his room. He checked the urge to touch her hand and still what he knew was a nervous movement. “Progress going as it should?”

  
She sipped her tea. “Just swimmingly.”

  
Leonie snorted. “If you don’t count all the rats.”

  
Raphael and Ignatz sat down, and mugs of hot tea were passed around. The little group chatted amiably, but Claude couldn’t help his eyes continuing to stray too Byleth. She and Ignatz were discussing bow techniques when she glanced over and smiled at him. He opened his mouth, about to try his level best to charm her, when Lorenz’s voice carried through the air. “Claude! Byleth!”

  
Everyone turned to the door to the entrance hall. Lorenz rushed in, a huge grin on his face. “You’ll never believe who have so grandly graced us with their presence.”

  
“By the Goddess, Lorenz, are you still that uptight?”

  
They all scrambled off the bench, and the Golden Deer ran forward to embrace their allies. Before hell had broken loose, they had become close with some of the students in the other houses, often dragging them along on missions and such. Sylvain and Ingrid came forward, laughing and giving their old friends hugs. “I hope we’re welcome as well.”

  
The group turned, as even Lorenz had not greeted the two women behind him. Petra and Dorothea stood awkwardly, looking unsure of themselves. Byleth broke away from Ingrid, and held her hands out to them. “Girls! I’m so happy to see you!”

  
The three women embraced, and then the two women found themselves pulled in by the rest of the group. The reunion lasted a while as they all talked excitedly, almost over each other. It didn’t escape Claude’s notice that they were all acting like they were back in school, just a bunch of young men and women with nary a care in the world. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it. “Alright guys, come on, let’s get our newcomers settled.”

* * *

Later, Hilda realized that an invaluable resource had fallen into their laps. “Ladies, I would like us to adjourn to Byleth’s room at the conclusion of this meal,” she announced after dinner.

  
Claude cocked an eyebrow, his mouth turning down into a frown. “Is this about the mysterious plot that you were talking about earlier?”

  
Hilda gave him an arch look. “It’s been so long, we just need to catch up.”

  
“Yes,” Byleth said, her face completely neutral. “I have a desire to spend time with my ladies.”

  
Something about that struck Claude as suspicious, but he couldn’t say anything. If he pushed he’d probably insert his foot right back into his mouth, and he had just gotten Byleth to talk to him again. He wasn't sacrificing that for anything. “Well then, I guess the boys and I will retire to my rooms. I managed to find something most interesting in the knight’s barracks. Someone had stashed some very fine whiskey from Faerghus in their room. Care to share gentlemen?”

  
While the men made noises of agreement, the ladies took their leave. “Jealous much?” Lysithea muttered.

  
“He knows something’s up,” Hilda replied.

  
“What is up?” Dorothea asked. “This is rather abrupt.”

  
“We’ll explain once we get to the Professor’s room,” Leonie piped up, shooing the girls forward.

  
After they were all piled into the room, Dorothea rounded on Byleth. “Alright, spill. What’s going on?”

  
Petra laughed. “Dorothea, be nice.”

  
“It’s alright Petra. I’m actually not sure why we’re here either.” Byleth looked pointedly at Hilda.

  
The lady in question pointed to Dorothea. “We need your expertise.”

  
Dorothea frowned. “Singing?”

  
“No, seduction.”

  
The Adrestian mage’s eyebrows rose. “Claude?”

“How’d you guess?” Byleth asked, visibly taken aback.

  
She grinned. “When you helped Petra and me bring our baggage up to our rooms, he was staring at your ass.”

  
A blush graced Byleth’s cheeks. The others giggled, except for Ingrid, who frowned instead. “Is this really the time? We all are fighting various wars, and these two are probably on some sort of most wanted list for betraying Edelgard! Rhea is still missing, the church is in shambles, and we may not be alive next week if Empress Edelgard finds out we’re here!”

  
Marianne and Lysithea looked chastened. Petra and Dorothea paled, both of them having managed to forget for a few moments the true price of their being at Byleth’s side. Leonie’s mouth had thinned into a line, while Hilda’s eyes snapped with anger. “Ingrid, I have spent the past five years at Claude’s side. I was there when his grandfather died. I was there when Count Gloucester threw in his lot with the Empire. I have not seen him truly smile until a few days ago when he smiled down at Byleth. I love Claude as one of my dearest friends, and I am all to aware of our situation, but if I can make him happy _right now_, then no, it's the perfect time.”

  
“We all know the danger,” Petra added. “We of Brigid believe that happiness must be seized in times such as these.”

  
Dorothea looked to Byleth, concerned that Hilda wasn't taking her into account. “Does he make you happy?”

  
With all eyes on her, Byleth closed her eyes. “I came here during the Great Tree Moon. None of you were there that night late in the Lone Moon when I saved three lordlings from certain death. I had never had friends anywhere near my age, barely thought of courting or anything other than the next mission with my . . . with my Papa. But three little lordlings stumbled into our camp, scratched up and wild eyed, running from someone. There was this beautiful girl with hair like fallen snow, and a boy with hair the color of summer wheat. And there was a boy with skin the color of my father’s cedar chest and eyes grass green who smiled at me from behind a bow.”

  
Lysithea clutched her hands to her chest, and Marianne sighed. “And then I came here with those three little lordlings, and those grass green eyes got me to pledge myself to the Golden Deer. It was a mistake.”

  
Hilda frowned, as did Leonie, but Dorothea nodded. “You should have never gotten so close to that boy.”

  
Byleth laughed bitterly. “Here I was, an old maid of 21, never been courted in my life, having calf-eyed daydreams about a cocky little seventeen year old while grading his papers! I was stupid, but I can’t find it in myself to regret it.” She met Dorothea’s eyes. “Because he made me happy. He . . . just before that last battle here five years ago, he called me his friend. No one . . .” Her voice cracked. “No one ever has.”

  
Several mouths opened to deny that, to claim that they had, but not one word was uttered. The assembled women realized that none of them had ever called Byleth anything but teacher or professor. She had always been a pillar of intimidating might, face impassive and stern, their teacher who at even her young age had more renown than any of them could ever hope to achieve. She was first Byleth the Ashen Demon, then Byleth wielder of the Sword of the Creator, then Byleth the Goddess Touched. How could anyone see her as anything but Sothis’s vessel, Rhea’s chosen, Garreg Mach’s heir?

  
They’d never seen her as a woman. A woman who had desires and dreams just as they did. A woman who loved, and wanted to be loved in return. They could only sit in stunned and shamed silence. “We’re sorry,” Marianne finally said, a tear tracking down her cheek.

  
Byleth reached out, and took her hand. “Don’t be. Because it wasn’t just that green eyed boy. I met this wonderful girl who loved to shirk her duties, but always knew how to delegate to the person most suited to the task. Oh, and did I tell you about the girl who was going to outshine me in my father’s own eyes? And the girl who studied every moment she had, too driven to do anything else? Or the sweet girls who always loved the horses and pegasi, feeding and spoiling the animals to death? The girl who sang like an angel, and the girl from Brigid who was always warm and kind?”  
Tears had appeared in every eye. “All of my students made my time here so wonderful, and I loved ever single one of them. It was a mistake to stay close to that green-eyed boy, but it was never a mistake to get close to all of you.”

  
Ingrid pursed her lips and then looked up. “I’m sorry.”

  
“Don’t be,” Byleth replied, “Because you have a point. We have other things to worry about. My love life can be put on hold.”

  
“No, it cannot,” Petra said with an iron tone. “Does that green-eyed boy care for you in the same way?”

  
“I . . .” Byleth closed her eyes again. “I didn’t think he did, until the Ethereal Moon. The night of the Ball, he met me at the Goddess Tower. He bullshitted me some story about wishes, when I acted like I didn’t know the true legend of the tower, but I didn’t hope. He’s not from Fódlan. I knew it even then because it wasn’t lost on me that he looked more like Cyril then he did any of you and had a much more cavalier attitude towards the goddess than anyone I’d ever met. He told me the truth of his origins later.”

  
Hilda shook her head. “Trust me, as the one who helped him learn everything he could about Garreg Mach when he first came, he was well aware of the true significance of what he was doing.”

  
Dorothea nodded. “In that case, he cares. He cared enough to actually share his secrets with you. I had suspected that he might have been born on the other side of the Almyran border, but he’d never confirmed it for anyone outside the Alliance.”

  
“I knew he had to have some Almyran blood, but I didn’t realize he wasn’t born here,” Lysithea said.

  
“I thought he was just really tan,” Leonie muttered. That broke enough of the tension that the girls were able to laugh.

  
“So, what is our plan?” Ingrid asked, giving Byleth a wink. “How are we going to help the Professor bag her green-eyed boy?”

“It’s a good thing I brought my cosmetics kit,” Dorothea said. “You and I have similar skin tones, so we should be able to use some of my things.”  
“Wouldn’t that be terribly obvious though?” Leonie asked. “Wearing cosmetics while scrubbing floors and hauling rubble?"

  
Hilda snapped her fingers. “We’ll throw a party! A small celebration!”

  
“And we can all dress up!” Lysithea added. “Make it look less like Professor is going out of her way to do it!”

  
“But we won’t be able to put that together by tomorrow night,” Byleth said with a droll look at Hilda.

  
The young woman shrugged. “Lorenz will get my prized tea service, but I think it’s more important that we do this right. You’ve lost a lot in the last five years, Byleth. It’s time you gained something.”

* * *

It was decided that Sunday, the day of rest, would be a party day. Ingrid, Lysithea, and Byleth would cook a meal, and Claude hired a group of local musicians to play for them. Dorothea would sing, and Petra, Leonie, and Sylvain went out hunting on Saturday to find game to serve. Claude and Raphael went looking for other vittles, with alcohol being top of the list. Secretly, Hilda went out and bought fine clothing for everyone to wear, but she and Dorothea paid special attention to the dress they’d chosen for Byleth.

  
When the time came for the party to begin, Claude was happy with the result. Hilda had proposed the party as a morale booster, and he had to say that she had a great idea. The men were all in high spirits, enjoying the clothing that Hilda had gifted them. All of them were wearing a simple suit of trousers with shirt and jacket, all black. They looked not dissimilar to their old school uniforms, but each was decorated with patterned trim at the sleeve and neck in each man’s favored colors. Claude’s yellow trim popped against his dark skin, and he took care to rid himself of the stubble on his cheek and neck. The last week had seen the men let their normal grooming routine go, but he wanted to look sharp for the party.

  
As the men loitered in the dining hall, they chatted amicably. The musicians were tuning up in the corner as Leonie and Ingrid strode in. Both of them wore simple dresses of solid orange and blue respectively, with Leonie’s a high collared gown that covered all but her fingers. However, it was so form fitting that it left little to the imagination. Ingrid’s gown had a lower collar that skimmed her collarbones. She also wore a ribbon around her neck. Both women’s long hair was caught up in intricate braids, and their faces were painted with only a light dusting of powder and rouge.

  
Next came Lysithea and Petra, whose gowns were a bit different. Lysithea’s mauve dress featured a panel in the front, and lace insets over her chest. Her three-quarter sleeves were also trimmed with white lace. Petra’s low neckline was filled in with a white shawl, but her magenta dress skimmed her figure before flaring out around her knees. Their faces were also tastefully painted and hair pulled up into braids. “My, my,” Lorenz said. “Hilda really did think of everything.”

  
“It’s what she’s good at,” Claude agreed. “I take it Dorothea is making sure all of you look your loveliest?”

  
The four women shared a conspiratorial look, and Claude thought he might just have discovered the plot he’d been wondering about. “The others might be another few minutes,” Lysithea said.

  
She was right, a few minutes passed before Hilda, Dorothea, and Marianne waltzed in. Marianne’s gown was cut like Leonie’s but in a periwinkle blue, and Dorothea’s was the same as Lysithea’s except for its burgundy satin. Hilda’s dress matched Petra’s while being a rose color. Hilda and Dorothea were smiling like sly cats, and Claude suddenly felt a spurt of fear. He’d thought the plot was to throw a party and dress up . . . but what if that was secondary to the true point of it? Hilda was far too self-satisfied, and a very important person was still missing.

  
“You look beautiful,” Raphael said to Marianne, his voice breathless.

  
“Where’s Byleth?” Sylvain asked as he offered both Dorothea and Petra his arms. “I can’t wait to see what you did with the Professor, Dorothea dear.”

  
Hilda took Lorenz’s outstretched arm, and again, it wasn’t lost on him that Ingrid and Lysithea quickly claimed Ignatz’s arms. “She was right behind us,” Hilda said smugly.

  
Before he could turn and give her a death glare, one more body moved through the door. Dimly, Claude registered the gasps from behind him. “Damn,” Leonie said, “you do good work, Dorothea.”

  
“Yes, yes I do.”

  
“Teach,” Claude breathed, unable to articulate anything else. She was beautiful in her tights and cape, but the gown Hilda chose highlighted her figure in such a way that even though he _knew_ what her legs looked like, the flaring skirts beneath the fitted bodice made him want to yank them up to see. The bodice of the concoction of black was tightly fitted, pushing her bust up to show off her cleavage to great advantage. The gown was off the shoulder, and the sleeves were fitted down to the back of her hands and brought attention to the fact that Dorothea had lacquered her nails bright red. She also wore a golden chain with a simple tear drop garnet that nestled right into her cleavage, and another choker that looked like she wore a collar around her neck. A stag’s head decorated the front of it, as if to show who she belonged to. Her hair fell in loose disarray around her shoulders and her red painted lips were parted.

  
He kept staring at her, and Byleth blushed prettily. Neither of them noticed when Raphael moved forward to offer her his other arm - purely platonically, he was too busy making cow eyes at Marianne to think of Byleth _that_ way even if she were stark naked and asking for it - Leonie and Marianne both pulled him back with whispered admonitions. Sylvain took in the whole scene, looked down at Dorothea, and nodded in approval. Ignatz asked Lysithea in a whisper about the whole thing, but Lorenz just raised a brow at Hilda who smiled in return.

  
Finally gathering his wits, Claude stepped forward and offered his arm. She took it, and he drew her close to his body. Servants from the village had been hired to help serve them at the party, and he gestured at them and the musicians to begin. He led Byleth to the head of the table they’d set up for the party, and the other men escorted their ladies as well. Two chairs had been placed at the center of the table with a single, elaborate place setting in front of it. Glancing up and down the table, Claude realized that there weren’t enough plates for everyone. When he turned to Hilda, she smiled. “I decided that we would dine in the Almyran style. Gentlemen, you will share your plate and goblet with your ladies.”

  
The other men seemed to have no problem with it as they led their ladies to their spots. Sylvain seemed especially pleased to have both Petra and Dorothea flanking him, while Ignatz looked a little lost at the opposite end of the table. To the left of the grand place setting, Lorenz and Hilda sat with great ceremony, while Raphael took Leonie and Marianne to the right. Ignatz was across from him, as Sylvain was across from Lorenz. No one was seated across from Claude and Byleth. Without a word he escorted her to their seats, but as he examined everything as the first course was being served, it all began to fall into place.

  
The plot most definitely wasn’t about the party. He picked up a piece of fruit, and held it out for his companion to taste. While the other men let the ladies grab what they liked from the shared plate and passed the goblet generously, Claude understood what even Hilda had not known about the Almyran style of dining, as it was called here. Dilettantes in Fódlan thought of the Almyran style of dining as just an excuse to share a plate, but in Almyran culture, this would utterly scandalize his father and his people. Yes, they shared plates, but not with just anyone. It was an intimate practice, one that was a cornerstone of Almyra's more tribal culture. Plates were shared only with family, and never between unrelated people . . . unless they were married. And married men always fed their wives. For one moment, he thought about letting Hilda know, but as Byleth took the piece of food from his fingers, he decided against antagonizing his second in command.

  
Conversation was lively, and it didn’t take long for the other young men to pick up on Claude’s cues. As the meal went on, they began to feed their companions, right down to Ignatz. The women appreciated it, and Hilda and Dorothea were not shy about letting Lorenz and Sylvain directly feed them. Byleth eventually allowed him to do so as well, and as he did, Claude had to admire the breadth and depth of the ladies’ plot - because well he knew this wasn’t just Hilda. Try as he might, every time he started a conversation with Lorenz, Ignatz, Raphael, or Sylvain, one of the ladies would draw them back into a conversation and away from Claude. They also avoided engaging Byleth in conversation, and did the same thing to the men when they tried to engage Byleth that they did to Claude.

  
The servants. The seating. The dresses. Every facet had been carefully planned and executed, and Claude was impressed. The women had deftly maneuvered him, and he’d been too busy racking his brain to figure out what they could be plotting that it had never occurred to him that they were planning something like this. It was his fault though - it never occurred to him that Byleth would confide in anyone except him.

  
That thought froze him as he held out a morsel of meat. Byleth daintily took it from his fingers with her teeth, and Claude felt himself go painfully erect. He had avoided directly looking at her when he offered food, because he’d known that watching her mouth would do him in. She was chewing, and swallowed while she frowned a bit at a raunchy story Sylvain was loudly recounting to the entire table. Automatically, Claude offered her the goblet and she smiled at him as she took a sip. Another thought hit him with the force of a speeding horse - this felt right. Sitting with Byleth beside him, feeding her, laughing with her. It was all so right. She had already said that she would help him realize his dreams, so why shouldn't she do that not just as his friend and ally, but as his lover? He looked up at Hilda, and realized that she was watching him closely. Another thought blasted through right behind the first.

  
The little bitch, _she knew_. She knew what this meant to his father’s people. _It was why she chose it._ To force him to spend time with Byleth. To contemplate what it would be like to have her as his companion in all things. To force him to feed her and watch her mouth wrap around food and wish that it was wrapping around his cock -

  
A gentle but calloused hand on his brought him back to the moment. Byleth was looking up at him with concern written on her face. “Are you alright?”

  
He gave her a smile that hid his inner rage. “Yeah, I’m okay Teach. Just . . . amazed at Hilda’s duplicity.”

  
“Duplicity?” she asked, taking another sip from the goblet he still held.

  
He put down the goblet and picked up another morsel of food. “So, how long were you girls planning this?”

  
“The party? Since Friday night.” She took the morsel, and smiled as he served himself a piece.

  
“Don’t play dumb.”

  
She gave him a droll look as she began playing with the garnet necklace. His eyes were drawn to her cleavage, and it was only through sheer force of will that he didn’t lose complete track of his thoughts. “I’m on to you.”

  
“Are you?” she said softly, seductively. “On to what exactly? The fact that we wanted to dress up and impress men we're interested in? The fact that I wasn't propositioning you the other night just because you were convenient? The fact that this entire time I’ve wanted you, and only you?”

  
“Is that what this is about? Showing me how much you want me?” he asked harshly. “Toying with me to make yourself feel better?”

  
“Toying with you? How am I toying with you?” she snarled.

  
He picked up her garnet necklace, his fingers burning a path across the tops of her breasts. She shivered satisfyingly at the touch. “Do you know what this does to a man?”

  
“Dorothea kindly explained the purpose,” she replied.

  
“And did Hilda explain what it means for _Almyrans_ to feed someone not blood related to them?” he growled.

  
Byleth froze, and shook her head. He dropped the necklace, and slid his hand down her side, brazenly feeling every curve. He didn't care that Sylvain and his ladies saw it. Or that Sylvain was frowning. He leaned even more into her space, crowding her and making her feel absolutely tiny. “It means,” he breathed into her ear, “that they’re married.”

  
She gasped, and he squeezed her hip. “Every single thing you’ve done tonight has been an attempt to manipulate me,” he snarled softly, so softly that only she heard, even though everyone else was quieting down. Ignatz and Ingrid were still talking animatedly about trade, but Raphael, Leonie, and Marianne could see the look of angry panic on Byleth’s face. On the other end, Sylvain, Dorothea, and Petra were watching warily as they continued to make small talk with Hilda. Lorenz rose, but at the shake of Hilda’s head, went to the musicians rather than intervene.

  
“You,” Byleth said loud enough for them all to hear, “Have a lot of nerve getting pissed off about being manipulated.”

  
“DANCING!” Lorenz shouted, and everyone scrambled up. Claude reared back, jerked from the little world he’d focused on, just in time to watch Lorenz whisk Byleth up and away. In the space of a moment he was left at the table with only Hilda as his companion.

  
“You. Are. An. Idiot.” She looked over at him as she sipped her wine.

  
“And you are a bitch,” he said. “Are you and your girls happy?”

  
“Are you?” she asked cruelly. “Byleth’s right, you have no right getting mad about manipulation when you’re known for your schemes.”

  
“It does not change what you did,” he snapped.

  
Hilda rose, the picture of noble femininity. She was even looking down her nose at him with a sneer. “What are you really mad about Duke von Riegan? The fact that you had a willing woman fawning over you all night or the fact that we pulled one over on you? Does it enrage you that you're not the one holding all the cards? Can you not see past your need for control to see that she did this because she's too inexperienced and shy to be honest?”

  
“Ah, come on Professor!”

  
Both of them looked up to see Byleth making her way out the door. She turned back, and Claude felt his breath hitch. Tears sparkled in her eyes as she gave them a gentle smile. “It’s okay, but I’m very tired from cooking today. It was lovely! Have a good night everyone.” She hurried out into the night.

  
Everyone turned to look at Claude. Lorenz waved the musicians to stop playing, and all of the servants looked confused. “Are you proud of yourself?” Leonie burst out.

  
“Yeah!” Lysithea added. “What is your problem!”

  
“Come ladies,” Hilda said, “the Duke wishes to wallow in his low behavior.”

  
Sylvain tried to smooth it over. “Ladies -“

  
“No!” Petra snapped, holding up a finger in his face. She turned and stomped out behind the others. In mere moments, only the men were left.

  
They all turned to look at Claude. He just put his head in his hand, massaging his temples. “The hell?” Sylvain asked. “Was that?”

  
Lorenz pursed his lips. “Was it worth it?”

  
Claude looked up. “Was what worth it?”

  
“Sending the woman of your dreams off in tears.”

  
Ignatz’s eyes went huge. Raphael looked like he couldn’t decide if he should be mortified or ecstatic for Claude. Sylvain just smiled behind his hand.

“And how do you,” Claude began in a deadly tone, “know anything about my dreams?”

  
Lorenz shrugged. “I know that you always talked about her. You always gravitated towards her. Tell me, how many times did you dance with her at the annual Ball? Three times, wasn’t it Sylvain?”

  
“Yeah, because you cut in on me asking her to dance. _Twice_.“ The cavalier crossed his arms. “I’m pretty sure you would have done a third time if Seteth hadn’t given you the death glare.”

  
“And then there was the other night,” Lorenz pressed. “Some strong emotions must be in play for you to manhandle an ally over the attentions he chooses to give to a woman.”

  
“Oh, well obviously he’s over those emotions now,” Sylvain pressed. “Goddess above, Ignatz did you see that dress? Byleth was a vision.”

  
Ignatz, now that he knew what was going on, caught onto this new plan quickly. “You know, Claude once said he thought our professor would outshine the divine beauty of the goddess. At the time, I didn’t believe him, but after seeing her in that dress . . . wow.”

  
“She was beautiful,” Raphael piped up. “Not as pretty as Marianne, but wow.”

  
Claude’s hand had tensed around his goblet, his other a fist on the table. Lorenz and Sylvain shared a look and a nod. “Oh, and Lorenz, did you see those . . . “ Sylvain made a lewd gesture in front of his chest.

  
“Probably the finest pair in all of Fódlan,” Lorenz agreed.

  
“Well,” Ignatz joined, pushing up his glasses, “how could you not notice? That necklace didn’t let you look anywhere else.”

  
“Shut. Up.” Claude snapped.

  
The three shit stirrers shared a look. “And why should we?” Ignatz asked boldly.

  
“Yeah, _you_ sent her off crying,” Lorenz added.

  
“Seems like she might find the attention of another man more to her liking,” Sylvain added.

  
Claude surged to his feet. “_You will not go near her._“

  
The other four men shared looks. It was Raphael who answered. “But she’s not yours. You haven’t done anything but push her away.”

  
“She was sitting right there,” Ignatz continued gently. “Looking at you like you hung the moon and stars.”

  
“You do realize that _that’s_ what the girls insisted on talking about right?” Sylvain added.

  
“Hilda is planning the wedding,” Lorenz stated matter of factly.

  
“Why did you get mad?” Raphael asked finally.

  
Claude sighed, and plopped back into his seat. “I just . . . I . . . I don’t want to be manipulated.”

  
“You mean, you don’t want someone to take your power away,” Sylvain said shrewdly.

  
“Fine!” he snapped. “I just . . .”

  
“Have no real justification for your anger, and need to apologize to the love of your life?” Ignatz interjected into the silence.

  
Claude gave him the evil eye, but nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry I ruined your night.”

  
“Fortunately,” an imperious feminine voice said from the doorway into the entrance hall, “We have a solution.”

  
The men turned to find Hilda waving the musicians back into their seats. The five young men from the village had been quietly packing up their things. “We ladies will be returning shortly.” She eyed Claude. “Sans Byleth.”

  
He felt his heart squeeze. He was such an idiot. He stood back up, and strode out the door that led to the barracks. “She’s not in her room,” Hilda called out. “She’s at what’s left of the Goddess Tower.”

  
“Do you think he’ll patch things up?” Raphael asked as the other ladies returned.

  
Hilda rolled her eyes. “If we’re lucky, the Duke of Bull Wyverns will finally tup his cow and stop being a pain in the ass.”

  
The others laughed, and decided to resume the party. Either they’d see Claude and Byleth again, or . . . .

  
The bull wyvern would finally tup his cow.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I decided to add a few cultural details for funsies, but also because I cannot resist fleshing out worlds. I haven't seen anything on Almyran culture beyond their kinda Darwinist attitude about strength, so I wanted to add some details. I read a really nice post on Tumblr that posits that Claude and the Almyrans are meant to be Turkish/Persian, and it made a lot of sense for an additional reason: Fódlan is coded as European, and the Almyrans are a threat to the Leicester Alliance not unlike how the Ottomans were a threat to the Holy Roman Empire - which the Leicester Alliance sounds a lot like. The idea of sharing a plate doesn't actually come from any particular culture, but is meant to be reminiscent of Middle Eastern attitudes towards family ties. I do head canon that outside of battle, Almyrans tend to have a lot of emphasis on family and good hospitality. 
> 
> So, I hope you guys enjoyed his one! There will be at least one more in the wings. Maybe more as I finish up my play through of Verdant Wind!


End file.
